


Before The Tavern

by GalacticallyNonbinary



Series: A Troubled Kingdom [2]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Fantasy AU, Multi, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticallyNonbinary/pseuds/GalacticallyNonbinary
Summary: Prequel to Rebel Against the KingExactly how does a kingdom become corrupted? And what kind of childhood does a person need to be willing to rebel? The events that unfolded before one particular night. The events Before the Tavern.





	1. Wondering

It was a warm spring day, and the market in the center of town was bustling with activity. In the field just in front of the castle walls, young children pointed wooden swords at each other, training for the day when they could be knighted. An old man with creases lining his face from decades of smiling danced in the square, singing and grinning at the children passing by. The streets were alive with the smell of fresh meat and flowers, parchment and thick blankets. Every salesperson in town shouted their goods and their prices. One young knight fought against his mentor, a man with fire in his eyes.

“Come on Roman, you’ve got to pay attention! You always get distracted and…” With a few strategic movements, the mentor had the blade of his dark wooden sword pressed into Roman’s chest. “That’s why you always lose our duels.”

The young boy nodded solemnly, and took his own sword from the ground. He was the best fighter out of all of the children on the yard, which was a well-known fact. He had beaten every single one of them in duels. Roman dreamed of one day besting his mentor in a fight, but he knew there were slim chances of that happening. Roman’s mentor kindly took his shoulder, breaking the small child out of his thoughts.

“I’ve got to go talk with the others, keep practicing buddy.” Roman nodded excitedly, and continued waving his sword in the air, slicing through imaginary opponents.

In the corner of the courtyard, a young boy was lying on his back, gazing up at the sky. A discarded sword was lying a few feet away, and the boy had taken off his shoes and socks.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be training.” The boy continued watching the clouds, and the mentor rolled his eyes. This was his least favorite pupil. He was smart, and had an imagination that was far too overactive. Not at all how a knight should behave. Finally, the boy seemed to acknowledge the man’s presence.

“I was looking at the clouds. Do you ever wonder why they’re there? I wonder what a cloud would feel like…” The mentor grabbed the young knight’s arm, roughly pulling him to sit up.

“Logan, you are the least skilled knight out here. You know that, don’t you?” The boy shrugged, and moved to lie back down, but the mentor’s grip held him still. “You sit here, in your own world, staring at clouds, _wondering_ all day-” The boy’s suddenly feeble voice interrupted him.

“Is…is wondering a bad thing?” The hurt and fear in Logan’s eyes made his mentor pause. Quickly, he shook the pitying feeling that tugged at him, and replied in a stone cold voice.

“If you ever want to accomplish anything, then yes. It is bad.” Logan blinked, slowly comprehending what he had been told. Neither of them knew it, but that one comment would spiral into a rut, carved deep in the boy’s personality. “Now, go and train. That’s what will make you a good knight.” The boy glanced down and picked at the grass.

“What if I don’t want to be a knight?” The entire world seemed to stop. That was a question that had never before been uttered. “What if I want to be a wizard?” The mentor snorted.

“Go ahead and ask your parents that question, I’m sure they’ll be all for it.”

“Okay, I will!” The mentor was taken aback. Clearly, Logan hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm dripping from his voice. He almost stopped the young boy, but remembered how often Logan had annoyed him. Any opportunity to get rid of him was a good one, the mentor decided. So he shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Logan started to clamber to his feet, but suddenly stopped himself. He had taken off his shoes and socks because he liked to feel the world beneath his feet, and liked to wonder at the different textures on the ground. Remembering what the mentor had said about wondering, Logan reluctantly sank to the ground and pulled his socks and shoes over his dirt-stained feet.


	2. Family

A young boy darted through the streets, smiling and laughing with his siblings. They tried to avoid the people and their carts, but they did occasionally knock into stands. He was the youngest child, and that was obvious, between his innocent smile and expert agility. The voice of his brother called out through the town.

“Patton, you’d better run faster! I’ll find you soon,” he taunted. Patton let out a breathy laugh and kept running. As he did, the sounds of a joyous song caught his attention. He turned, searching for the source of the noise. Distracted, he didn’t notice the boy sprinting directly at him until it was too late.

They both hit the ground, and Patton let out a startled yelp. Looking up, he saw the face of the boy. He was young, probably the same age as Patton himself. Studying the boy more, he noticed the red and white outfit of a young knight in training. He could afford to be trained, that meant he was rich. And that made him infinitely more interesting to Patton. But if he was training, why was he outside of the castle walls in the middle of the day? Patton was about to ask that very question, but the boy stammered a quick apology before running out of sight.

Patton sat on the ground, dumb-founded, staring in the direction that the boy had gone. Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted into the air.

“I told you I would find you if you didn’t run any faster!” Patton giggled, recognizing the teasing voice of his brother as he was placed onto the older boy’s shoulders.

“Can we go to the music?” Patton asked, pointing over the crowd where he could finally see a bard playing in the square. His brother nodded enthusiastically, and took off towards the crowd who had gathered around the bard, Patton bouncing on his brother’s shoulders.

Logan kept sprinting through the streets, dusting himself off as he ran. The bewildered expression of the other boy that he had run into flashed through Logan’s head. Judging from his dirty clothes covered in patches, he was one of the common folk. ‘The Lessers,’ as his parents and their friends would say. He slowed to a halt, catching his breath. Finally, Logan had arrived at the tall, dark doors of his home.

He swung them open and proudly announced, “I’m going to be a wizard!” His parents just stared, shocked and thoroughly confused. Out of breath, Logan happily explained his decision to his parents.

“…and then if I’m a wizard, I can fly up and touch the clouds, so then I won’t have to wonder what they feel like anymore!” His parents were silent, staring at each other in silence. Finally, realizing that the boy wouldn’t be persuaded to change his mind, Logan’s mother took a deep breath and calmly said,

“Logan, I really don’t think this is a smart idea…” His bottom lip started to quiver, and she sighed. “Go to your room. Your father and I will talk about it.” Looking and practically begging for pity from his parents, Logan slowly went to his room.

In his room, Logan sat on his bed, and stared out of the window. A large puffy cloud was visible just above the town. It looked so soft, he wondered what it’d be like to lie back onto that instead of his bed…He caught himself wondering again. With a determined frown, Logan marched to the window and pulled the curtains shut. He had to stop wondering.

After almost ten minutes of not wondering, Logan was so bored that he wanted to pull his own eyes out. He walked towards the top of the stairs that led down into the main room, wondering if his parents had made a decision yet.

 _“No,”_ he reminded himself. _“Not wondering, I just happened to be sitting at the top of the stairs.”_ If that position also let him hear his parents’ discussion, that was mere coincidence.

He couldn’t quite make out what his mother was saying, as she spoke softly and calmly. His father, on the other hand, seemed extremely upset. Logan listened for a few minutes, becoming disheartened as his father ranted on about how foolish his child was. Finally, his mother raised her voice, just slightly.

“Look, what’s the harm in letting him be a wizard?”

“Oh, he can do whatever he wants!” His father’s voice was powerful, and made Logan bite his lip in his nervousness. “But I’ll tell you this. If he leaves, I’m not letting that boy back into my house until I can be proud of him.”

Something in Logan’s mind clicked, and he knew what he wanted to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't sure exactly how i wanted to word this, so it's kinda weirdish and idk...buut look!! it's little adorable fantasy children!! my boys!! i love them!!


	3. Young Wizard

Logan went back to his room and fell into a restless sleep. His plan would be put into action the next morning.

After only a few hours, he awoke again, before the sun, and grabbed the few gold pieces he’d managed to save up at such a young age. Counting them, it was a bit more money than he’d expected, but the voice in the back of his head warned him that it wasn’t enough. After careful consideration, Logan began to ignore that voice.

He ran his hands over childhood toys, over his favorite quill, and over his favorite books. Logan then decided that if he was truly going to do what he planned, he would have to be responsible and smart. Responsible and smart people don’t wonder about things, and they certainly don’t hold sentimental attachments. So Logan grabbed only a black blanket that he draped around his shoulders for warmth, and he took a deep breath.

He unlocked his window, and clambered out, over the roof and into the bushes outside of his house. Logan hopped to his feet, made sure he was still holding his gold coins, readjusted the blanket around him, and went along his way.

If he needed to go make his father proud before he could go back home, then he would.

He wandered through the town, finally finding a shop that seemed to glow with magic. As he walked in, the bell floating above the door chimed throughout the shop.

He payed no attention to the stares of the older wizards that followed him through the shelves. The fact that the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape was dragging on the ground behind him didn’t exactly make him blend in, not to mention that he was a good two decades younger than everyone around him.

He found an old used spell book that only cost ten coins, much cheaper than anything else in the shop. Truthfully, it was less of a spell book and more of a collection of scrolls and parchment tied together. Still, it’d have to do.

Logan ventured to the counter, where the wands were on display. He only had a few gold pieces left, not nearly enough to buy even the cheapest wand. After Logan dumped the makeshift spell book onto the counter, he noticed the shopkeeper suppressing a chuckle.

“You know you need a wand to cast these spells, right?” The man’s low, gruff growl made Logan’s hands shake, but he shoved them into his pockets and shrugged.

“I couldn’t afford any.”

“He could always enchant a stick outside,” a kind-faced lady pointed out. “That spell is probably in there somewhere.” Being the only woman in the shop, and the youngest costumer, (besides Logan of course) she wasn’t exactly welcomed. The men responded with low grunts and dismissive mutters.

“He needs a wand to do that spell,” pointed out a man who was wearing a smirk on his face.

“I’ll figure it out,” Logan replied, his voice filled with confidence that he didn’t believe. The shopkeeper shrugged as Logan handed him the coins, watching the child toddle out of the shop.

On the street, Logan sat down against the side of the building and started reading through his spells. They seemed complicated, and he did indeed need a wand for every single one. As he began wondering what to do, a shadow fell over him, and he looked up.

It was the kind lady from the shop standing above him. She held out a twisted and plain stick. Logan knew immediately what it was. Slowly, ~~eyes filled with wonder,~~ he took it into his own hands. She then bent down and handed him a heavy piece of blue cloth.

Seeing the confusion in his face, she smiled, and explained, “It’s a robe. Unlike your blanket there, it’s got pockets to store all of your spells and your wand. It’s even enchanted; while you grow up, the robe will grow with you.”

Logan’s mouth fell open, and he scrambled to his feet, pulling the sleeves over his tiny arms. The robe glowed, and it shrunk until it fit him perfectly. He tucked the wand and spells inside. The feeling of excitement was slowly replaced by guilt.

“This seems expensive…you don’t have to give me it.” He started to take off the robe, but the woman shook her head.

“It’s alright, you need it more than me. Besides, I’ve got a new husband, and he’s got a good job. I can afford it, I promise you.” The guilt inside of Logan didn’t go away. After a few moments of careful deliberation, he picked up the blanket and shoved it towards her.

“At least take this,” he insisted.

She reluctantly took it from him, sighing, “I suppose you don’t need it anymore.” She folded it quickly and tucked it under her arm. Before she left him, she took one of his small hands into hers and said, “Put the things that I gave you to good use, little wizard. Do something great.”

“I will,” he promised her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope Random Nice-Lady's husband treats her kindly because she's a sweetheart who deserves love and affection


	4. Threads of Fate Intertwine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I had a schedule and I was gonna wait to post these chapters until the *scheduled times* like a responsible human being but,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I actually have no good reason I just didn't want to wait and I wanted y'all to be able to read it. Look forward to more of me making a schedule and abandoning it pretty much immediately!!

In the courtyard, the afternoon sun shining down on him, Roman sparred, his chest heaving. His mentor seemed upset, and he took it out on Roman. Exhausted, the boy collapsed to the ground. His mentor glared.

“Let’s do it again! Roman, you have to get it right!” He grabbed Roman’s arm and yanked the boy to his feet. Roman blindly swung his sword, arms aching. Tears started pooling in his eyes. The blunt end of a wooden sword connected with his stomach, and he fell to the ground. This wasn’t how mentors were supposed to treat their knights in training, was it?

He was once again pulled to his feet. The next time he fell, it was forward. He noticed a dull red stain on the knee of his white pants, but didn’t have time to mention it while his mentor kept pushing. Harder, faster, Roman had to be stronger. Just past the castle walls, he could hear music, singing, and people laughing. As he fell to the ground again, he longed to be out in the city streets.

Earlier that morning, Patton skipped down the street, holding tight to his brother’s hand. The grin he wore on his face was bigger than usual, and his brother had no doubt as to why. This day was the young boy’s birthday, and the family had worked hard to buy him a beaten and worn lute. He had been learning from the man in the square how to play for years, and he finally had his own.

When they arrived at the square, Patton ran up to the man. His hair was just starting to grey, and wrinkles were starting to etch their way across the man’s face. Still, the twinkle in his eyes hadn’t faded.

“Mister, look! I’ve got my own lute!” He proudly proclaimed. “Now I can play the songs you’ve taught me all on my own!” The man smiled, and sat on the steps of a building nearby.

“Why don’t you play something for me then?” He asked. Patton stood in the center of town, wondering what to play.

That conversation was stitched into the noise of the town as a boy curled in a shadowy corner. A young boy, his parents were thieves and masterminds by trade. They barely noticed him, and he’d been off on his own ever since he could walk. Virgil would scrounge money from the streets, occasionally swiping a coin from a nobleman who wouldn’t miss it. He’d told himself that he would never steal from anyone lower than that.

In the corner, tucked inside a purple cloak, he counted his coins. He’d had a pretty good haul that week, and was smiling at the shimmering coins when a shadow blocked out the little bit of sunlight that shone on him. Virgil looked up into the face of a girl, years older than him. Beside her, a girl a few years younger than him. The older one smirked. By her unwavering focus on his coins, he could tell what she was.

_Mercenary._

The word struck fear inside of him. They were the people he vowed never to be like. They stole from anyone, rich or poor, just to benefit themselves. The girl held a small dagger, the silver blade glinting in the soft light. Her face said it all.

_“Give me the coins, or die.”_

He could take more, could find some other way to get money. Virgil most certainly didn’t want to die. He held out his hands, filled with gold coins, which the girls took greedily into their own pockets. Slowly, Virgil started to back away, but he was stopped as he realized his cloak was caught underneath something. Looking over, he saw that it was the heel of the older girl’s boot.

“Purple,” she crooned. “What a pretty color. The color of royalty, right?” The younger girl nodded. “Well, I don’t think that the likes of you deserves this cloak.”

“N-neither do you,” Virgil stammered quietly. She laughed in response.

“They’re all cowards,” she told the younger one. That was when Virgil realized that she was teaching the young girl how to be just like her. The thought of corrupting a young mind like that made him sick to his stomach. “You’ve just got to remind them who’s boss,” she swiped with her dagger, close to Virgil’s throat, laughing when he flinched. “And then take what’s yours.”

Virgil sighed, and shakily untied the ribbon around his neck, and climbing out of the cloak.

“Thank you,” the girl sang cheerily. “Pleasure doing business with you!”

The dagger was tucked back into her pocket as she pulled the velvety purple sleeves of the cloak over her arms. The little girl looked back at him, for just a moment, something like pity or guilt alighting in her eyes for just a moment…and then she looked away.

_Virgil would never realize it, but that dagger that had threatened him would be passed from older sister to younger. That dagger would slice open his shoulder in the middle of a dungeon. The hands that would wield it belonged to a girl that once looked back and felt fleeting pity for a boy she’d stolen from._


	5. Complete Strangers

Finally, in the center of town, Patton decided on which song he wanted to play. He strummed a chord, and began to play and sing. A small crowd quickly gathered, smiling at the little boy who smiled back at them. His music covered the grunts and shouts from the knight’s training yard, just over a short stone wall nearby.

He liked to watch the people’s faces while they walked by. One man stood, clapping along to the music, and glancing around every now and then as if he was searching for someone.

Two girls walked by. The older, in a thick purple cloak, didn’t pay Patton one scrap of attention. The other stopped, listening to the music for a moment before she was dragged along the street.

A minute later, a young boy stumbled out from the same direction the girls had. He sat across the square, against a wall. Knees hugged to his chest, it looked to Patton like the boy was crying. As Patton played, however, the barest ghost of a smile crossed the boy’s lips.

Another boy sat in the square, adorned in a blue robe. He read parchment and scrolls, fiddling with a wooden wand. His feet absentmindedly tapped to the beat of Patton’s music.

The man who had been searching for someone was no longer searching. His face lit up as he saw a woman across the square. They walked to each other, and his arms wrapped around her waist while his lips peppered her face with kisses as she giggled. Once he was done, she showed him a dark black blanket that had been folded and tucked under her arm.

The couple started to walk down the street, the woman seemingly telling some sort of story about what she’d done earlier in the day. As they passed the boy crying in the square, their gazes lingered for a moment, and they began murmuring to each other, their paces picking up until they were sprinting across town.

Patton had finally finished his song, and he bowed as the crowd erupted into cheers. The old man, still sitting on a stoop, nodded approvingly.

When night finally came, Roman was grateful for the opportunity to go to sleep. He shared his small room in the castle with three other knights, and when he traipsed into the room, breathing heavily and covered in dirt, they knew something was wrong.

Talyn was the first to notice the stain on the knee of his pants. They rolled up the leg of the pants, and started to gently pat the scrape with a wet washcloth.

Joan noticed how Roman winced whenever anything touched his stomach, so they pulled up his shirt and their eyes widened at the large purple bruise that formed there.

Valerie took another washcloth, and she scrubbed at his arms, legs, and face, getting the dirt off of his skin.

Roman was so tired that he didn’t know how it happened, but somewhere in this process, he was changed into his pajamas. Valerie soaked his uniform in water, and assured him it would be clean by the morning.

“Just because you’re the prodigy doesn’t mean you need to push yourself like this,” Talyn murmured as they all climbed into their beds.

“Even you deserve a break every once in a while,” Joan agreed.

Roman started to argue, but Valerie silenced him, saying, “Just promise us you’ll try to take it easy.” Roman sleepily muttered something that sounded vaguely like a promise, and the four of them drifted off to sleep.


	6. Who Is This Woman?

“I just wish we could do more,” the woman said, frowning as she cast a spell that fluttered over a thick black blanket.

“We're doing the best we can,” replied her husband, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her.

Maybe what she had told the young wizard wasn't entirely true. Her new husband wasn't all that rich. Their house was a single dusty room, with only a few items of old furniture.

Still, she felt that had to help whenever he could, and her husband agreed. So that was how she ended up walking back through town, carrying an enchanted black blanket that had been hastily torn apart and sewn back together into a cloak.

The sun was just beginning to set, and she tried to ignore the faces of the children abandoned on the streets of the town. Finally, they spotted the boy they'd been looking for.

Earlier, he had been curled on the ground, sobbing silently. His tears had since stopped, but he had barely moved. The woman carefully crouched down and held out the cloak.

Virgil was almost drifting to sleep when he felt a presence looming over him. Quickly, his eyes snapped open, and he started to scramble to his feet.

However, the sight above him gave him pause. A woman with a kind smile held a large piece of black fabric out towards him. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of the chill racing down his bare arms.

“You looked like you needed this. It's enchanted, it'll grow larger along with you.” Her comforting voice made Virgil let out a small sigh of relief. Nearby, Logan could hear her words, and he was reminded of what she had done for him earlier that day.

Virgil reached a hand out, slowly, as if the cloak would bite him. When it didn't, he quickly snatched it from her hands and wrapped it around himself. It glowed with a soft grey light and fit itself around him.

The woman smiled and said, “if you ever need a good meal or a warm place to stay…” Her husband placed a hand on her shoulder, warning her that she was making promises that were impossible to keep.

She swallowed, hard.

“...just…” she couldn't bring herself to say anything more. She just nodded at him, tears brimming in her eyes and a bittersweet smile on her lips. Standing up quickly, she and her husband started their walk back home.

Virgil was left on the ground, confused and tired, but at least now he was warm.


	7. Is It Fair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah I'm back! lately it's been...tough, ngl. But I'm in the home stretch with this and a new world order, and I really want to get those completed! I'm actually really proud of this whole universe. This is one of the few that I've never caught myself looking at kudos or hits bc I'm writing it mainly bc...I like writing it! So I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! (I do read every single comment though, and all of you are so sweet!!) <3

It had been a few years since that long, eventful day. In a tiny shack, Patton’s mother was lying in her bed, a cool cloth on her forehead. She'd been lying there for almost a week. Her kids, an almost adult boy, twin girls almost Patton's age, a boy even younger than Patton, and Patton himself stood around her. Their dad made dinner, stirring the pot methodically.

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” Patton asked his older brother. Patton's brother gave him a smile, but Patton noticed the worry behind his eyes.

“Of course kiddo! Why don't you get out there in the square and play something for the people? I'm sure they'd love to hear you!” Patton, always excited by music, nodded and grabbed his lute. As he rushed out of the door, his brother ruffled his hair. Through the thin walls of the hut, Patton heard his brother let out a sickening cough.

Before he could begin to play, a procession of horses trotted through the street. Seeing the people around him bow, Patton scrambled to his knees. The procession was ornately decorated, and Patton knew immediately that he was bowing for the king.

When the king’s horse passed, Patton couldn't help but let out a gasp. There was more gold on this man’s outfit than Patton had ever seen in his whole life. Behind him, dressed in far simpler clothes, was a boy about Patton's age. He seemed nervous and uncomfortable as he fiddled with his horse’s reigns. Patton heard whispers around him.

“Is that the prince?”

“It’s Prince Thomas!”

“Oh my goodness it's the prince!”

Every time the word ‘prince’ echoed through the crowd, Thomas seemed more and more uneasy. Patton had no idea what this boy could have to feel bad about.

Thomas hated the smell of the city, and he wondered how people lived in this stench. When he was king, he decided, that would be the first thing he’d fix. The procession lead him through the streets, and they ended up in a shadowy area of town.

Instead of bowing for them, the people here scampered out of the light. The stench of blood filled Thomas’s nose, and he almost wished to be back in the center of town. In front of them, Thomas noticed a boy in a black cloak who didn't shy away from them. He seemed almost unimpressed. Knights at the front of the procession threw stones and sticks at him, laughing.

“Dad,” Thomas frowned. “Where are his parents? And why are they being so mean?” The king chuckled.

“Probably dead.” Thomas looked horrified, but his father didn't seem to notice. “He's scum, Thomas. Not even the dignity left to run away from us. He doesn't work hard, so he ends up here. The bottom of the food chain.” With that, the king spit on the street next to the strange boy, howling with cruel laughter.

If Thomas was uncomfortable, the knight in training beside him was doubly so. Thomas glanced at him, and was glad when they shared a look of doubt.

“Did he do any hard work to be king?” The soon to be knight asked, smirking when Thomas had to hide his snickers behind a gloved hand. When he was sure the king wasn't looking, Thomas dug his hand into his pocket, dropping a handful of golden coins in front of the boy on the street.

“I'll be king one day and I haven't done much work either,” Thomas pointed out. The boy in armor, named Roman, watched the coins scatter on the street below them.

“Somehow I think you've already done more than he ever will.”

As the shimmering coins clattered on the cobblestones, Virgil immediately scooped them into his own pockets before anyone had the chance to reclaim them. One coin rolled down the uneven street, and Virgil scampered after it. The coin rolled to a stop as it hit a small worn boot, no bigger than Virgil’s own tattered shoes. A hand plucked it from the ground, and Virgil looked up into the eyes of a boy about his same age.

In his left hand was the coin, and in his right he held a small wooden stick. It sparked with a strange blue glow, and Virgil stepped back.

“Is that- are you…” Virgil stared at the stick and the boy.

“Magic,” the boy replied coolly, his face and voice devoid of any emotion. He waved the wand around, almost as if it was a sparkler. Virgil's eyes followed the glow, transfixed.

“You can have the coin,” Virgil sighed. “Looks like we both need it,” he added, gesturing to their tattered clothes and dirt-covered bodies. 

“We can both have it,” the boy grinned. Concentrating, he pointed his wand at the coin in his hand. His face turned almost purple as he poured energy into the spell, and then a small cloud surrounded the coin. Once it disappeared, there were two coins in the small wizard’s hand instead of one. He tossed the original at Virgil, and it hit his face before landing in his hand.

“If you can do that, how come you live out here and not in a castle or something?”

“Well, it takes a lot of focus to do just that spell,” the boy explained. “Besides, I think that'd be a little unfair, don't you?” Virgil's mind echoed back to the absurd amount of jewelry on the king’s procession.

“I can't think of many things that are fair,” Virgil murmured as he waved goodbye to the boy and went to find a warm place on the street to sleep.

Logan looked at the coin in his hands. Almost a decade later, he'd be staring at two coins on the forest floor in front of him, wondering again about fairness and the familiarity of a certain boy in a black cloak.


	8. Kind People

Things were tipping towards the breaking point, but no one knew that quite yet. In a small cottage, a kind woman and her husband had a joking argument.

“Pranks is an awful name,” she laughed at him, one hand on her stomach as she felt a slight kick. “I'm not naming my child Pranks for gods sake!”

“Is it any worse than naming them Missy?” He chuckled.

Kind people usually raise kind children. It's no wonder Patton turned out the way he did. As for the others, well, when parents are unkind or absent, it's up to the children to make their own choices. Logan, Roman, Thomas, and Virgil just had to hope they were making the right ones.

But this hypothetical child had nothing to fear. Their name would be Missy, and their parents were the kindest people you could ever hope to meet. So kind, in fact, that when an orphaned child the same age as baby Missy turned up on their doorstep, they couldn't refuse.

“I'm naming this one Pranks,” the woman’s husband whispered to her as he cradled the sleeping child. She laughed.

Kind people usually raise kind children. It's no wonder Missy and Pranks turned out the way they did. The couple that raised them was jailed for giving funds to the poor only a month before the rebellion. Their kind faces were filled with pride when they heard about what Missy and Pranks did to help.

Everything was being put in place, and soon the events would occur like dominoes falling, one after the other after the other. But right now, the couple held the children, hoping they were kind enough to raise good kids. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: repetition can get boring and overused. In moderation it's powerful, but otherwise it's bland for a reader  
> also me: fuck you im a literary genius *copies and pastes an entire paragraph*


	9. Setting Personal Goals and Breaking Personal Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hesitantly, I'm going to say that, including this one, we've got 3-4 more chapters to go. Let's do this!

As Missy and Pranks were only just newborns, Roman was officially knighted, along with Valerie, Joan, and Talyn.

Logan, after counting the years, realized he had only a few left until he would officially be an adult. He couldn't quite remember his exact birthday.

Virgil was taller now. In his black cloak, he was almost scary. People sometimes flinched away. He still refused to steal. He took from the trash, worked odd jobs for hot meals.

Patton was on the street, playing much sadder songs than before.

The old man who had taught him in his childhood was long dead.

The illness that had his mother bedridden for months before her eventual death eventually took his baby brother. They couldn't afford to live anywhere outside of the house, which was infested with germs. Patton, spending most of his time on the street, singing for money, never got sick.

By the time his father and one of his twin sisters had died, they had barely any money. Patton vividly remembered the day the king and his advisors came to his door.

“You have failed to pay for your housing. You must pay the money now or we will be forced to take your belongings and your home.”

“Please,” Patton's brother coughed. His eyes were bloodshot. Patton held onto his sister. The three of them and the house were all they had left. “If you put us in the streets, my sister and I will die.”

“Go to a doctor,” the king replied dismissively.

“We don't have the money,” Patton's sister spat back, delving into a coughing fit after she did.

“Then work,” the king sighed. “I assume you don't have the money. Please vacate the premises.” As he went on to list the things they had to turn in to the royal bank, Patton noticed a boy standing behind the king. Prince Thomas stared at the ground, refusing to meet Patton's iron gaze.

As Patton's brother ushered Patton and his sister out of their home, Patton turned to the prince as they passed him. Filled with anger and frustration, he hissed a single word.

“Coward.”

Patton worked tirelessly for the money to send his siblings to a doctor. By the time he had the money, his brother had buried their sister six feet below the ground. When they went to the doctor, the only thing she could say was that it was too late. Patton watched his brother’s life slip away, day after day. Patton's brother did his best to keep his distance.

“You're the last one, Patton. You have to stay alive.” His voice was quiet, and he barely had the energy to keep his eyes open.

“I'll kill them all.” Patton growled. “I'll...I’ll rebel, I’ll-”

“No. You won't do something like that. It'll get you killed. You'll stay alive, here, on the streets. You, living here, and making the common folk happy with your music is proof that their elitist bullshit doesn't work. Patton, by virtue of existing, you're already rebelling.”

Patton had to bury his own brother in a shallow grave. It's no wonder that his songs were much sadder than before.

As Virgil heard a bard playing at night in the town square, he stopped to listen. The music wasn't happy or adventurous like the other songs he'd heard before. It was almost rebellious. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the singer’s meaning. He was almost begging the townspeople to destroy the elite crowd. Virgil's stomach growled, almost louder than the music. He hadn't had a job in months, and he was starving.

A knight decked in gold rode on a proud horse through the street, and an awful plan formed in Virgil's head.

He followed the knight, sneaking through the shadows. It turned out other, real mercenaries had the same idea, and just as Virgil was working up the nerve to pounce, they attacked the knight.

Their force was much greater than anything Virgil could have hoped to do. The knight was outnumbered, and Virgil could hear his yelps. Blood dripped onto the cobblestone street as the mercenaries made off with gold. Virgil crept out of the shadows, approaching the knight, who was clutching as his bleeding leg.

He didn't seem to notice when Virgil took a fistful of gold from his saddlebags. The gold felt especially cold and harsh in Virgil's hands, and he wondered if he was being unfair, taking advantage of an injured man. His words from years ago reminded him that very little things were truly fair, and he started to dash away into the night. His footsteps alerted the knight, who turned and cried,

“Stop! Thief!” When he saw Virgil’s thin, starving form, the knight decided not to give chase. Besides, he had a long night of healing, and Valerie, Joan, and Talyn probably wouldn’t be awake to help him.

In a nearby alleyway, Logan groaned as his spell failed yet again. If he could just do any useful spell, it'd prove to his dad that his dream of being a wizard wasn't foolish. All of the spells he knew were simply for show. The duplication spell was useful, but he couldn't even do it on big objects. He could make smoke bombs, but they didn't do much in a practical sense.

If he had more money, he'd buy a better wand, but he didn't feel right buying a wand with magically created money. Besides, a good wand was worth more than he could hope to conjure up without over exerting himself. He decided to try the transportation spell one more time.


	10. Sure On This Shining Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two (2) chapters in one day?! It's almost like I'm being productive! *glances at the mountain of homework I'm ignoring* almost...

Logan collapsed into a heap against the wall. His chest heaving and arms aching, hands trembling ever so slightly. Then, he glanced up, and saw the shining night sky. His breath hitched for a moment. As a young child had loved the daytime sky, the vibrant blue color dotted with puffy white clouds. Nighttime had always scared him, and when he became too old to be scared by the dark, he was also too jaded to take it all in.

But sitting there, sore and tired, suddenly everything felt just a bit better. He noticed how the light from the twinkling stars cast fuzzy shadows of trees and buildings on the ground around him.

Patton sobbed into his shirt. The only one left of his family, he guessed that he was lucky to be sitting there, above the earth instead of six feet below it. Someone or something kind seemed to be watching over him.

Even though it really didn’t feel like it.

Roman sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as his bloodied and bruised leg touched the uncomfortably stiff mattress. He had to do the healing and late night crying alone. Finally, after hours, he finally felt just a bit better. He managed to put the horrors of the day behind him. The tracks of tears on his cheeks had almost dried up entirely.

Virgil trembled in the alley, hands shaking as he held the coins. It felt so, so wrong, but he needed it. Survival of the fittest, right? He could hear the sound of people laughing and dancing through the thin wall of the tavern he leaned against. The hot air of a summer night clung to him as his mind screamed in its dilemma.

Logan collapsed. Patton sobbed. Roman sat. Virgil trembled.

Under the same sky, the same stars, the same clouds, the same moon…

But still isolated, alone. As they always had been. In that moment, all four came to the seemingly obvious conclusion that this was how it would always be.

As Logan traced the blurry edges of the soft shadows of trees, he gave up, for just a moment…

He wondered if the earth was casting similar shadows on the stars above.

 _Sure on this shining night_  
_Of starmade shadows round,_  
_Kindness must watch for me_  
_This side the ground._

 _The late year lies down the north._  
_All is healed, all is health._  
_High summer holds the earth._  
_Hearts all whole._

 _Sure on this shining night_  
_I weep for wonder_  
_Wand’ring far alone_  
_Of shadows on the stars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this whole chapter was inspired by that poem, written by James Agee. We sang a choral arrangement for all county chorus a little while ago, and I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea. If you’ve got the time, look up a video of that choral piece…its honestly breathtaking…god I don’t know how else to describe it, it’s beautiful.


	11. The Rest Is History

The day the king died, people rejoiced. They hoped and prayed that Prince Thomas would be a better leader.

But in his first weeks as king, nothing changed.

And those weeks turned into months, which turned into years...and nothing got better.

Parents still struggled to feed their children, knights were pushed far beyond their limits, bards were hired by the castle and forced to play songs with messages they didn't agree with, mercenaries had to murder and steal to survive, and powerful wizards went to bed hungry.

The first time Missy and Pranks went to bed without a bite of food all day, their family cried for weeks. On this day, they cried because they were able to eat a bite of bread.

The first time the king’s army lost a battle, they came back almost half the size they'd been when they left. On this day, Roman and his friends barely flinched when the names of their fallen soldiers were read aloud.

The first time Patton received a bag of gold from the king, it felt gross and wrong in his hands. On this day, he tossed that bag of gold onto the counter of a bar and ordered “As many drinks as this gets me.”

The first time Virgil took someone's life, he couldn't sleep for a week. On this day, he woke up next to the scent of rotting flesh.

The first time Logan succeeded in his transportation spell...well, that was yet to occur.

Thomas was watching his kingdom fall apart, and he couldn't take it. He talked to his friend.

“Joan, how do I help them?”

“I don't know, sir.”

“Please don't call me that,” Thomas sighed. “And really, how can I help a kingdom when I'm powerless?”

“Sir, if I may speak my mind…?” Joan paused, and Thomas shrugged. “You're not as powerless as you say. You're just scared.” Thomas froze. “I'm sorry if I was out of line-”

“No, Joan, it's fine.” Thomas frowned. Joan quietly left the king, and Thomas contented himself with listening to the music floating through his window from the town below.

Historic days rarely start out as historic. Sometimes, they start out as a day like any other.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you about how the king sat on his throne, head in his hands and heart sinking to the ground. About how a mercenary worked outside of the castle walls. How, cloaked in blue robes, a wizard bought things from more reputable sources. How, riding on horseback, a man was watching over the townsfolk, and how there was music coming from the center of town.

We're getting close to caught up now, and you know how the rest of this story goes.

Patton, performing in a dark tavern, finds a lonely wizard who catches his eye. Logan gets a bit too tipsy. A knight named Roman and a mercenary who you knew as simply Anxiety save the day. The rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all folks! well, except for a new world order... I started this fic in July of last year, and planned for it to be a short, cute piece about medieval sanders sides. 10 months, two spin-offs, and plenty of new characters later, we're here. It's kind of cool to watch my writing progress throughout the story...weird to think that I started writing this before I knew I was nonbinary, before I was even in high school. That kind of got off topic but...wow. Kinda cool, right? Y'know what's even cooler? All of the people who've been reading since the beginning. Damn! That's commitment right there! I love all of you readers and hope you guys like the story I have to tell.


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